


Shower Dreams

by Leslie_Knope



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Future Fic, M/M, POV Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: Unfortunately, he opened the bathroom door at exactly the wrong time. Stiles had just turned the water off and shoved the shower curtain aside, so he was standing there, naked and dripping with his eyes wide.Derek’s jaw dropped.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onereader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader/gifts).



> A gift for the lovely Isobel, aka [onereader](http://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader/pseuds/onereader), aka [shealwaysreads](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com/). She posted [this pic](https://shealwaysreads.tumblr.com/post/155594889711) (NSFW) on Tumblr, and after we tossed some ideas back and forth, I said I’d write this for her. She asked for “at least a kiss, more if you’re smuttily inclined,” and I was like _do you know who I am?!_ So I hope you like this, dear! 
> 
> (Spoiler alert: they do a little more than kiss.)

Derek yawned as he rummaged through his dresser drawers, pulling out a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It’d been a long evening of dealing with faeries, of all things, and they all ended up sore and tired and covered in nasty, sweet-smelling faerie goop. Stiles was the last one in the shower, and Derek offered to lend him some clothes.

Unfortunately, he opened the bathroom door at exactly the wrong time. Stiles had just turned the water off and shoved the shower curtain aside, so he was standing there, naked and dripping with his eyes wide.

Derek’s jaw dropped.

He _knew_ , obviously, that over the past five years Stiles had changed from a teenager into a man, but…but now he was faced with indisputable, physical evidence. His shoulders were seriously broad, he had a very attractive dusting of hair on his stomach, and while he was still lean, he had filled out so well, with visible muscle on his chest, arms, and torso.

Derek’s gaze drifted lower, seemingly of its own accord, but before he could really catch a glimpse of Stiles’ dick, he realized that he was _staring_ and that this had definitely ventured into creeper territory. He slammed his eyes shut.

“Sorry,” he said, way too quickly and maybe even a little squeakily? Shit. He looked around wildly—where was he supposed to put the _clothes_ —and ended up just dropping them exactly where he stood.

Stiles still hadn’t reacted, so Derek offered a weak smile in his general direction and nodded as he backed out the door as fast as he could. He slammed it shut and heaved a deep breath, scolding his dick in a vain effort to calm it down.

Derek could very clearly hear as Stiles stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, so he hightailed it down to the kitchen. He spent the next five minutes going through some deep breathing exercises and trying to relax. Everything was gonna be fine. He knew that he should apologize again, probably, but for the sake of his sanity, it was probably best if he never mentioned this again. Ever.

“Hey.”

Derek startled and whirled around. He was so preoccupied that he hadn’t even heard Stiles come downstairs, jeez. “Hi. I ordered pizza earlier. If you, uh, wanna stay. You can,” he finished, pretty proud of how steady his voice sounded. Considering the circumstances.

“Cool,” Stiles said easily, flopping down on the couch. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Either home or here in their rooms, asleep,” he replied, then strained his ears and winced. “Or not sleeping, god.”

Stiles laughed and switched the TV on, flipping channels until he landed on a baseball game playing on ESPN. “By the way, fuckin’ awesome shower, dude. I appreciate your dedication to fancy-ass bathrooms.”

Derek snorted. He’d indulged a few luxuries when he rebuilt the Hale house last year, and well, he really liked a good shower. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

“Are you gonna come sit on the couch or what? You look awkward standing over there.”

Derek frowned and looked down at himself. “I’m _leaning_.”

“Yeah, exactly. Against the kitchen counter. It doesn’t look very comfortable, come sit on the couch.”

Derek sighed. He didn’t really want to—well, he _wanted_ to, even though he was pretty sure he shouldn’t—but now it would be awkward not to. It was a big sectional, but Stiles had plopped himself down right in the middle, and with the way the pillows were strewn, there was no easy way to _not_ sit by him.

So Derek sat, tried to remember what the hell he usually did with his arms (??), and made a valiant effort at watching the game. But after only half an inning, he was fairly confident he was gonna shake out of his skin.

Sitting on the couch with Stiles was, in a word, pure torture.

He was… _sprawling_ more than usual. His legs were spread, enough so that his knee was firmly pressed against Derek’s, and even his arms were hooked over the back of the couch, one behind Derek’s head. He was taking up a lot of space, practically demanding that Derek notice him, and well—there wasn’t a lack of noticing on Derek’s part, that was for damn sure.

Especially because he was wearing _Derek’s clothes_. The long-sleeved shirt was tight in the shoulders, even, while the sweatpants were a little big and hung low on his hips. And Derek knew all too well that Stiles had nothing on under those sweatpants.

Oh, god. He forced his gaze away and tried to subtly take a deep breath. That didn’t really help, though, because all he got was a lungful of Stiles’ scent, just after he’d used Derek’s soap and shampoo and was wearing his clothes.

Jesus Christ.

“Are you okay?”

Derek startled and jerked his gaze up to Stiles’ eyes, which were heavy-lidded and a little knowing. “Uh, what?”

“You seem a little…nervous.”

Derek gulped. “I’m fine.”

Did his voice always sound like that, rushed and a little high-pitched?

“Yeah?” Stiles leaned toward him a little, and Derek scooted back to the corner of the couch. “I think I’m making you nervous.”

“You make me a lot of things,” Derek shot back immediately. “Annoyed, frustrated, angry. Not nervous.”

“Really?”

Stiles’ hand was suddenly on his knee, squeezing, and Derek honest-to-god _flinched_. Why was his mouth so fucking dry? He licked his lips and tried to swallow, but he ended up coughing instead. “I’m fine,” he said again.

“Are you sure about that?” Stiles asked. He tilted his head in question, excruciatingly slowly, until the long, lean line of his neck was exposed. He stayed in that position, and Derek traced the thick tendons with his eyes.

He realized a second too late that his mouth had dropped open, and he felt his cheeks heat, suddenly vividly embarrassed and a little bit pissed off. “Jesus Christ. C’mon, don’t be a dick about this.”

“Aw, dude, no. I’m not—well, I _am_ teasing you,” Stiles admitted, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk, “but it’s not like I’m not gonna back it up.”

Wait, what?

“You…uh, what?” Derek stammered.

“Oh, come on,” Stiles said, smacking him lightly on the chest. “There is no way you don’t know that I’ve had a giant crush on you practically since we met.”

No, Derek in fact did _not_ know that. His face must have betrayed that fact because Stiles’ mouth dropped open.

“Wait, seriously? Did the smell not give it away?”

“You smell like arousal all the time,” he said, shrugging, and Stiles groaned.

“Yeah, all the time around _you_ , you doofus!”

Derek blinked. “But—you never said anything.”

“You never, ever gave one indication that you were at all physically interested in men. Believe me, I was watching. And me? I talk about it all the fucking time.”

“You never asked,” he said weakly, but Stiles just huffed and swung a leg over Derek’s hips to straddle him.

“And now I’m pretty pissed about that. We could’ve been doing this a while ago.”

“You seem pretty confident about that,” he said, but he didn’t really have much of a leg to stand on, what with Stiles on his lap and Derek nearly unable to keep from just devouring him. He fisted his hands in the couch cushions instead.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dude. You were practically drooling.”

“I was not,” he said lamely, and Stiles smirked at him.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I—”

“So do you wanna keep arguing about how thirsty you are, or would you like to start making out now?”

Derek blinked, looking up at Stiles. In this light, his eyes were almost beta gold. He didn’t really know what _thirsty_ meant, but— “The, uh, the second one.”

“Solid choice,” he murmured, leaning down. But just before their lips met, the doorbell rang.

Derek groaned and tipped his head back. Fucking pizza. “We should just forget it,” he whispered, but Stiles laughed and dragged his hands down Derek’s chest before he scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll get it.”

“My wallet’s on the table by the door,” Derek called out, then scrubbed both hands over his face with a groan. He took a deep breath and tried, in vain, to recalibrate himself a bit. It didn’t really work.

Stiles came back a minute later and dropped the two pizza boxes onto the coffee table.

“So do you wanna eat first, or—”

His words trailed off into a glorious muffled noise as Derek yanked him back down onto his lap and kissed the ever-loving hell out of him. Stiles responded immediately, sliding both hands into Derek’s hair and tugging to change the angle before diving back in with devastating sweeps of his tongue. It was heady and a little bit sloppy, and Derek was gasping for breath far before enough time had passed for it not to be embarrassing.

Stiles didn’t seem to mind, though, and pulled his kisses back a little, biting and sucking at Derek’s lower lip. In a weak attempt to gain the upper hand—or _any_ hand, really—Derek tightened his grip on Stiles and slid his hands down to his ass, pulling him closer so that they were flush together. But Stiles just groaned, a deep noise that Derek could feel reverberate against his own chest, and rubbed his thumbs over Derek’s cheekbones.

That felt different, more intimate and gentle than Derek was expecting, and he had to break the kiss again to breathe into Stiles’ shoulder for a second.

“Is this okay?”

Derek lifted his head, a little confused until he realized that Stiles was tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. He nodded and raised his arms, letting Stiles take care of it. Stiles made quick work of his own shirt, tossing them both over the back of the couch, then Derek hauled him back in, eager to get his hands on all that skin.

But Derek was getting a little crick in his neck—Stiles was the same height as him, and in his lap it was a bit much—and so he locked his arm around Stiles’ waist before twisting and tipping them down so that his body covered Stiles’, flat on the couch.

Stiles’ hands immediately snuck under the waistband of Derek’s sweatpants, squeezing the globes of his ass. Derek grinded down in response, his breath catching in his throat when he felt the hard line of Stiles’ dick against his own. Stiles laughed, gratifyingly breathless, and hitched his own hips up as he trailed kisses over Derek’s jaw and up to his ear, pausing to suck at the lobe. “What do you want, Der?”

“No,” he managed to say, “what do _you_ want?”

Stiles groaned, and the vibration against Derek’s neck made him shiver. “Oh my gosh, you are such a self-sacrificing _asshole_.”

“Yeah,” Derek said dryly, moving his hips in a sinuous, slow roll. “This is a real sacrifice.”

Stiles laughed and reached his hands down, stilling Derek’s hips with surprising strength. Well, it would have been surprising before. Now it seemed about right. “I wasn’t kidding, mister. That’s my only condition for this whole thing. We gotta do what you want.”

Shit.

He tried to get his mind around that, and Stiles licked his lips.

“I—I, uh,” Derek stammered, dropping his gaze to that mouth. Stiles grinned.

“Do you want me to blow you? You can say it.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, and Stiles’ grin got even wider.

“Awesome,” he said, pushing up on his hands and easily moving Derek back. Derek let him rearrange as he saw fit, until Derek was slumped down in the corner of the couch and Stiles was on his knees between his thighs, spreading them wide with his big shoulders. “So is everyone gonna give us shit about having sex on the couch?”

“Probably,” he admitted, and Stiles grinned.

“Even better.”

He tugged at Derek’s sweatpants, and Derek obediently lifted his hips. Stiles’ heart rate skyrocketed, which was flattering, and when he wrapped one big hand around the base of Derek’s dick, his toes curled.

“Fuck,” Stiles said softly, squeezing tighter. “How do you like it?”

“I, uh—” He had no idea, how was someone supposed to answer that question? “With you nearby,” he tried, and his heart honestly _ached_ when Stiles laughed brightly, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Okay, we can definitely do that.”

Derek barely got a chance to enjoy the sight of Stiles on his knees before he had to slam his eyes shut with a groan, overwhelmed by the feel of Stiles’ hot mouth on the head of his dick. Another noise escaped, this one high-pitched and embarrassing, and Derek pressed his lips together, cutting it off.

Stiles pulled off, though, and started talking, but with the way his hand slid so easily over the spit-slick skin, it took Derek a second to actually be able to listen and understand words.

“You should make noise,” he was saying. “Positive reinforcement is a seriously awesome thing.”

Derek blinked. “Consider yourself positively reinforced,” he said, and Stiles laughed. He was still laughing, in fact, when he dipped back down, and wasn’t _that_ an interesting sensation.

Derek wished he had a perfect memory so that he could conjure up this moment at any time in the future, but he tried to catalogue everything that he could. The bunching muscles in Stiles’ shoulder as he worked his hand, the play of his eyelashes against his cheeks, the flop of his hair over his forehead.

But way, way too soon, Derek felt the familiar buzzing low in his gut, and he resisted the urge to thrust up. He managed to stammer out a warning, but Stiles ignored him and didn’t budge. Derek maybe yelled out a little as he came, clutching Stiles’ arm, and as he sat there like a beached whale, panting, he wished he could’ve done a better job showcasing his stamina.

In his defense, it had been a long time. He said as much to Stiles, who just smirked and continued raining kisses up the cut of his hip. “I don’t care what excuses you have, I’m taking it as a compliment.”

Derek huffed, even as he grabbed Stiles by the arm and hauled him back up onto the couch. He kissed him for a long minute, eagerly sucking on his tongue while shoving his sweatpants down, then tugged him up onto his knees.

Stiles seemed to understand where this was going and laughed as he grabbed onto the back of the couch behind Derek’s head. “Oh, fuck. Are you really gonna—yep, holy _shit_. Oh my god, Derek.”

Derek breathed through his nose and tried to remember how to do this. Spit was good, right, and enthusiasm, that definitely counted. Stiles was babbling away, so it couldn’t be _that_ bad, and Derek let himself enjoy the concentrated scent and feel of him like this. He dipped the fingertips of one hand into Stiles’ crack, just the ghost of a touch, but Stiles gasped and thrust forward a little, enough to make Derek grunt.

“Aw, fuck,” he said softly, pulling back. “Sorry, dude.”

“S’ok,” he rasped, yanking him closer by the hip. He put his hand right back where it was, and Stiles groaned, twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to press forward or back.

Derek pulled back when Stiles tugged at his hair, just in time to watch him jerk forward and spill all over Derek’s fingers. There was a very nice litany of grunts and groans coming from above him, but Derek was a little transfixed by the sight right in front of his eyes. He leaned forward and licked right above Stiles’ groin, catching a few stray drops of come, then let out a surprised _oof_ when Stiles’ weight landed suddenly in his lap.

“Holy shit,” Stiles murmured into his mouth. “We need to do that again. _All_ the time. Starting in about 20 minutes.”

Derek laughed and guided them down flat again, this time on their sides so he could easily pay some more attention to Stiles’ neck. Stiles laughed a little at the scrape of Derek’s stubble but obediently tilted his head, scratching his fingers slowly through Derek’s hair as their breathing slowed.

“So can I tell you a secret?” he asked after a minute, and Derek murmured a vague noise of assent into his neck. “I opened the shower curtain on purpose when I heard you outside the door.”

Derek lifted his head. “You did not.”

“Oh, I most definitely did,” he said, grinning widely now, and his heartbeat was completely steady. Derek groaned and leaned down to playfully bite at his shoulder.

“Oh my god, you’re such a menace.”

Stiles laughed and trailed his fingers up Derek’s ribs. “You’re lucky I did. Who knows how much longer it would have been before your realized your thirst for me.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what that means.”


End file.
